


to let go.

by sparkstoflames



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Crash Landing, Destroy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Injury, Post-Canon, Post-Mass Effect 3, Reunions, Stranded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkstoflames/pseuds/sparkstoflames
Summary: “You have to let her go.” Her voice, even through her suit, sounds broken. Garrus knows she means he has to let her go to the Citadel, he knows she has to get the Crucible in place, but that’s not the letting go that he’s worried about.He’s not entirely sure he can do the other one.He sure as hell doesn’t want to.
Relationships: Female Shepard & Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Garrus Vakarian & Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Jeff "Joker" Moreau & Garrus Vakarian, Liara T'Soni & Garrus Vakarian & Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	1. separation

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for clicking here :) i hope you guys enjoy this because i've been wanting to write abt this stupid bird man for so long and I finally got around to it and I am stupidly excited for it :) enjoy!!

In the midst of fire, the Normandy strong under his feet, Reaper forces closing in and the sound of that _damned_ laser beam taking over his hearing—Garrus reaches out to her. His words pass his lips disjointedly, pauses and stutters making him feel like he’s messing this up.

Messing what just might be the _end,_ up.

“I-“ He pauses. Every molecule in his body is telling him to fight her on this. If he could grab her now and pull her inside the Normandy and just keep her _safe-_

She’d hate him forever for that.

“love you too,” Is what he settles on. His eyes fall over her as she moves away, her hand coming away from his face and instead resting on his arm—just for a moment in time. He still tries to reach out, ignoring the way the stretch of his arm leaves a burning pain across his shoulder and abdomen.

He tries to memorize the way she runs, tries to remember every step, how she tends to favor her left leg after that damned brute on Menae. He remembers watching as it managed to corner her for just a moment—long enough to leave damage, nevertheless.

As the hatch closes, he tries to peer over it, keep his sight on her as long as he can.

“Garrus,” Tali says from beside him. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even let his eyes glance in her direction. “Garrus,” She says again, this time with more force. The hatch is still shutting, the Normandy is starting to move away, he can’t lose sight of her-

Tali says his name again, and this time, it finally breaks him away. The hatch hisses to its final secured state.

Tali’s hand is delicate on the plating around his shoulder, her other arm still wrapped around his waist as she helps hold him up.

“You have to let her go.” Her voice, even through her suit, sounds broken. Garrus knows she means he has to let her go to the Citadel, he knows she has to get the Crucible in place, but that’s not the letting go that he’s worried about.

He’s not entirely sure he can do the other one.

He sure as hell doesn’t want to.

Tali starts leading him to the medbay, and Chakwas is quick to jump to her feet to help both of them inside. Somewhere, lost in his thoughts, Garrus had forgotten that Tali had been hit pretty hard too. Hecurses himself, and makes a mental note to apologize to her after all this mess is done.

Chakwas is uncharacteristically quiet as she patches the two of them up. Tali’s mostly tending to her own wounds, sealing off parts of her suit to apply her own medigel while Chakwas looks over Garrus’s shoulder, which he’d managed to absolutely _singe_ while dodging that vehicle—managing to roll into fire. Stupid.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Chakwas says, finally. She doesn’t meet his eyes as she speaks, and he’s not even sure how to respond, if he’s honest. _Of course,_ he’s nervous. He’s been nervous since he saw resurrected Shepard standing in front of him on Omega—a new kind of fire behind her eyes, but that same smile that meant she was grateful to see a friendly face. He’s lost her once, he knows what that feels like.

And he knows that it’ll only be worse this time around.

“I am too, but I’ve known the Commander for a long time. She’s stronger than anything they can put in her way now,” She fills the silence from her own question and then pauses her work on his shoulder, finally letting her eyes meet his. “And now, she has someone to come back to.”

_Or someone to leave behind._

He still doesn’t respond to Chakwas, instead giving her an understanding look before she returns to her work on his shoulder and the scans of his abdomen.

And he _hates_ it here. Here, he’s fucking powerless. He can’t shoot something, or cover Shepard, or hell, even _push a fucking button_ to help her.

He’s stuck on the Normandy, in the medbay, of all places, waiting.

He’s never been good at waiting.

He remembers the last time he waited for Shepard so clearly. It’s only been a few months, but spirits, it feels like years since he said goodbye to her after their suicide mission, after the collector base and after everyone had finally decided now was the time to go back home.

The goodbye back then—it wasn’t anything special. Garrus was to be dropped off at the Citadel, as most of the crewmates were, and find his own way back to Palaven from there. They’d known, of course, that eventually they’d have to say goodbye and their whole… _thing_ would be over. But back then, they’d thought it was going to end with one or both of them dead on that collector base, no reunions, no goodbyes.

He remembers calling her Commander, and her laughing at him.

“Drop the formalities, Garrus,” She’d said, eyes that same bright determination that he’d come to admire.

“Shepard-“ He’d replied, and she raised an eyebrow at him—an expression that made it known he was _still_ wrong.

And so he’d whispered her name, her _first_ name, and finally said he’d miss her. She told him to stay out of trouble, and he told her that if anyone needed to stay out of trouble, it was her. But, if she ever found herself in it, he’d be the first one by her side.

Who knew they’d both be there when the entire _galaxy_ was once again the one who’d made the trouble.

To be honest, he probably knew it. She probably did too. He doesn’t think either of them wanted to admit it.

So when he’d went back to Palaven, he waited for her return. He stayed in contact with Liara and Tali, and all three of them kept tabs on Shepard the best they could. Of course, it was mostly Liara who fed them the information back then.

But they waited. And when the Reapers arrived on Palaven, and he lost contact with Liara and Tali, he waited. And as he fought on Menae, watching as his home burned, knowing damn well that Shepard was doing the same with Earth, he waited.

And every night, when he was finally given the opportunity to sleep and take a break from the explosions that rang in his ears, when he could finally set his gun down for just a moment and allow his eyes to rest, he’d waited, and hoped desperately to see her again.

Until finally, he did.

This moment, laying in the medbay, slowly feeling his shoulder and abdomen come back to life, feels just like those last few days on Menae. There’s no keeping tabs on Shepard, no information the Shadow Broker can give him on how she’s doing in house arrest, no telling that she’s even still _alive_.

Although, back then, he’d been quick to decide that a Reaper invasion to Earth wasn’t going to be the thing to take her out. He knew Shepard, she’d go down screaming.

No, now- now feels like a glimpse into liminality. He’d heard humans on the ship use the term Schrödinger’s cat—you can’t know if it’s dead or alive until you _know,_ and until that moment when you know, the damn cat is neither.

Back on Menae? He’d decided she was alive, no evidence needed.

Now?

He’s not sure what to think.

Chakwas lightly pats his shoulder, her signal that he’s good to leave whenever he wishes, and he takes that opportunity as soon as it’s given to him. He says a quick goodbye to Tali as Chakwas begins her final look over on her, and Tali teases him for leaving her all alone in the medbay, but both of them know it doesn’t mean anything.

He rushes out, trying to make his limp look a little less painful than it feels, and he makes his way up to the bridge. He’s thankful that the Normandy is as stable as it is. Although he feels the way Joker twists and turns it, it’s just enough that he can still walk in a mostly straight line, careful to walk along the walls, bracing against them for support.

And when he makes it to the bridge, he’s surprised to be met with mostly silence. Just Joker and EDI working independently, but fluidly. Quick words are exchanged between them as they navigate the Normandy through the firefight. The orange hue of the cockpit is something Garrus has always found comforting, and for just a moment, he allows himself to admire the way it reflects on the various pieces of tech. But through the glass, he can see the destruction that lies before them. Although he can’t hear the sound of the laser beam now, he can sure as hell remember the way it rattled his skull just moments before.

The way it acted as nothing more than ambience for Shepard’s goodbye to him.

“Can we get any comms through?” Garrus doesn’t expect his voice to be as quiet as it is, soft and almost as though he’s attempting not to interrupt Joker or EDI in front of him. Joker sighs, not saying anything as he moves across his display, pressing buttons as he multitasks both flying and whatever the hell else he’s doing.

“Commander? This is Joker, what’s going on down there?” Joker pauses, letting silence fill the air, the soft static of the comm filling the bridge with an essence that Garrus would rather ignore. “Damnit.”

“It is probable that comms may not be reaching her in the Crucible,” EDI replies, her voice, metallic as it is, gives Garrus some level of comfort. “But,” She begins.

“EDI, don’t.” Joker cuts her off, giving her a pointed look as he continues to maneuver the ship. With a sharp turn, Garrus grabs onto the railing beside him, leaning into the wall on his bad shoulder. He tries not to hiss.

“Jeff, you know we may have to-“

“We’re not-“

“Not what?” Garrus’s voice is firm this time. Another set of silence sits between them, and EDI finally turns to look at him, Joker sighing in his chair and letting his shoulders slump.

“I did some analysis on the construction of the Crucible. It is likely that the initiation of the weapon may cause damage to the Normandy.”

“Which means…” Garrus trails off, his gaze passes from EDI to the back of Joker’s head. He’s remained silent, still heavy in his chair.

“If Shepard sets off the Crucible-“

“ _When_ Shepard sets off the Crucible,” Garrus corrects. EDI glances between Garrus and Joker for a moment before continuing.

“When Shepard sets off the Crucible, we will have to evacuate the system.”

The ship does another sharp turn, and this time, when Garrus’s shoulder hits the wall, he doesn’t stop himself from hissing. _Can’t_ stop himself. Half of his focus is on keeping himself upright, while the other is on how the _hell_ she came to that conclusion.

“No, Joker, you can’t be serious,” Garrus says, turning his attention to someone he _hopes_ will be a little more reasonable than a goddamn AI.

“I know Garrus, I-“ Joker pauses, takes a breath, “I don’t want to either, okay? But if this ship goes down, there’s no telling what could happen to us.”

“So we’re just leaving Shepard then.” His voice is colder than he expected, and for a moment his instinct is to apologize to Joker. He erases that thought rather quickly.

EDI speaks again, “On Earth, it is much more likely she’ll have access to medical facilities and other resources should she be hurt.”

“And she’ll think her crew abandoned her,” Joker says.

“It is very unlikely she’ll think that, Jeff.”

It’s then that Liara walks in, unsteady on her feet as the ship moves, grasping the railing across from Garrus.

“What’s going on?” She asks.

In any other situation, Garrus would’ve kept his cool. He would’ve looked to Shepard and known that now was not the time for anger, that everyone is under stress right now, that maybe evacuating the system _is_ the only answer.

But Shepard isn’t here. Shepard’s the one they’re leaving behind. Shepard’s the one who’ll be alone on Earth, waiting.

Or at least, he sure as hell won’t be here to silently bring Garrus back down, or to direct his gaze towards her and let his heartbeat settle in his chest.

And so the anger bubbles up.

“Abandoning Shepard, apparently,” He replies, harsh and cold and everything he’s grown to hate about how Turians tend to act.

As he walks away, turning to grip the railing with his other hand now, not even caring if his limp is noticeable, he hears Liara’s confusion and EDI’s overly-calm explanation.

But he doesn’t care anymore. No matter how much he fights on this, he knows he won’t win. He knows EDI’s right, but he fucking wishes she wasn’t.

_Maybe we could land on Earth._

No, too much ground fire. Getting down to evac him and Tali was hard enough, there’s no way they’ll be able to replicate that one.

_Then we could land on Mars, maybe, or Luna._

No, if the blast really is bad enough, they might be stranded there, breathing out of oxygen tanks for who knows how long.

And so they have to evacuate. They have to leave Shepard.

Garrus stands just outside the bridge, leaning against the wall. He started to listen back into what little conversation there is, Liara asking for updates on the situation in as calm of a manner as she could.

He picks up on the tremor in her voice.

She must hate being helpless as much as he does.

Garrus closes his eyes now, leaning his head back against the wall, trying his best to regain whatever ounce of composure he had left.

“And you’re absolutely sure we have to leave Shepard?” Liara asks, her voice timid and quiet. Garrus can barely hear her above the soft hum of the ship.

“It may be the only way to keep the rest of the crew safe.” That’s EDI, metallic and calm again. Garrus should apologize to her later. And Joker. And Liara. And Tali for earlier.

His list of apologies is growing a little too long for his liking.

As he stands there, listening to their conversations and the hum of the Normandy, Garrus doesn’t feel that bubbling anger anymore. Or at least, not at the crew. Himself? Maybe, but mostly at the goddamn galaxy that created this mess.

The council, for not listening to a damn word Shepard said three years ago, back when Saren was the biggest problem any of them had ever faced.

The Reapers, for creating this whole mess in the first place.

Every military leader that ever doubted Shepard, that ever hesitated in offering her their support.

And lastly, and most weakly, Shepard—for leaving him alone.

Then the ship rocks, what sounds like a small blast hitting the side of it. Soft gasps come from some members of the crew. Garrus stumbles on his feet, groaning as his bad leg takes on the majority of his weight. He grips the railing a little stronger then, pulling himself off of that leg and onto the other.

Another blast hits, this time on the opposite side, and Garrus hears Joker curse. He moves back into the bridge then, taking his spot next to Liara once more. Joker’s hands move frantically over his display, sending the Normandy in various directions away from the line of fire.

Garrus looks back to see Tali coming onto the bridge as well, standing behind Liara with a hand firmly placed on her shoulder.

Then the comm crackles. He takes a breath in, and notices the way Joker tenses as well. Liara and Tali exchange glances, then both focusing on Joker’s orange display as it slowly comes to life, forming a voice.

When it’s Hackett that rings through the speakers, the entire room deflates.

“Attention all ships, evacuate the system immediately. The Crucible is coming online. I repeat, all ships evacuate the system immediately.”

There’s a moment of silent celebration between the crew. For a moment, it feels as though they’ve all forgotten who’s on the Crucible, who’s been left to do the hardest part for them.

“Looks like the Admiral took your advice,” Joker says to EDI. It’s flat, and while Garrus knows that Joker trusts EDI with this, he also knows disappointment when he hears it. She stays silent in reply.

“We still haven’t heard back from Shepard,” Liara says. Garrus is thankful that she’s the one who voices that concern.

“It may be possible for us to stay for a few moments in an attempt to contact her before we leave,” EDI says.

She hasn’t even finished her sentence before Joker’s on the comm lines and her name is about all they hear for the next few seconds.

“Commander Shepard this is the Normandy, come in.”

Crackling, then silence.

“Commander Shepard this is the Normandy.”

Joker’s taken to resting his fist near his lips between speaking, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Shepard, come in.”

The comm continues to crackle. EDI begins to say something before Joker hits his hand on the arm of his chair.

“Goddammit Shepard, come in!”

Garrus moves forward, steady on his feet, finally, as the Normandy stills. His movement—it doesn’t feel like his own. Half-possessed by his a self-preservation instinct and half by what feels like Shepard’s own instincts. This action—this decision—it doesn’t feel like his own. But he knows that if he were to do anything else, Shepard would never forgive him. He places a hand on Joker’s shoulder, and he breaks his gaze away from the comm, looking up at him.

Joker looks tired. Garrus knows this war has taken a toll on all of them, but he never expected to see its effect on Joker’s face. Something about his bad jokes and witty remarks seemed to leave him invulnerable to any of these tragedies in Garrus’s eyes.

“Joker,” Garrus draws a breath, letting silence settle. The comm’s crackling rings between them. “We-“ Garrus stutters, looking to the side and closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself again.

This is the right choice.

This is the _only_ choice.

For the second time today, he has to let her go.

“We have to go,” Garrus says, finally. Joker pauses, and then nods, solemnly moving back to his console to get the Normandy as far away from the Crucible as possible.

But he won’t let that be the end.

He won’t let his last memory of her be the painful silence on the other end of a comm.

He refuses, that was not their goodbye.

He won’t know until he knows, right?

This, just like before, is temporary. There’s no other option.

Most of the other ships have already left the area by the time Joker begins his evacuation. Thankfully, the Normandy’s known for being quick, and they’re leaving about as fast as they can to avoid whatever hell should be upon them.

“Jeff, I am sensing a dangerous field close behind us, I advise that you move quickly,” EDI says.

Joker launches the Normandy through the Mass Relay, but he doesn’t relax, he continues to work on his console to speed the Normandy up as much as he can. 

Seconds feel like hours, Garrus’s hand is steady on the back of Joker’s chair, and he can feel the presence of both Liara and Tali behind him.

“Jeff, it is continuing to gain on us, we may be unable to escape it.”

“We’ll be fine, EDI, we just have to keep going. At least until we get somewhere safe.”

Then Garrus hears commotion from the back of the ship. Systems going offline, even the elevator stops working. Garrus is thankful that he and Tali made their way to the bridge—he never liked the idea of crawling through the vents.

“Jeff, it appears the blast is shutting down synthetic systems.”

“It’s what?” Joker breaks away from the console, looking at EDI as she works on the console of her own, as well as doing work within, Garrus assumes.

“I am attempting to reload systems as fast as I can.”

“EDI what are you saying?” Tali asks, moving forward, away from Liara.

“I am saying that,” EDI takes a moment to look up from her work on the console, “I am very grateful for all of you. Thank you for all that you have done for me, I hope my work can offer some support when you land.”

She looks to Joker then.

“And Jeff, please know that I love you.”

“EDI no, tell us what’s happening,” Joker replies.

“EDI, you have to tell us what’s going on,” Garrus says then.

“Setting course for nearest hospitable planet.”

“EDI-“ Joker’s voice sounds strained.

“I love you, Jeff.”

He breathes, and reaches out a hand to her, whispering his own love Garrus is sure. He tries not to listen to it.

The Normandy stops then, all of them lurching forward.

“Systems are down back here!” One of the crewmen shout from the main console. Garrus looks back to see most of the Normandy has gone dark, relying on emergency power. When he looks forward again, EDI’s body is slumped over, lifeless.

Joker says her name.

And then again.

And once more.

He looks at her body and reaches over in an attempt to move it, to see any sign of EDI’s inhabitance of it. When that doesn’t work, he starts yelling her name.

“EDI! Please, EDI I know you’re online. Please-“

Garrus can hear Tali and Liara’s soft echoes of grief from behind him. When he turns to look at them, he notices the crew by the main console is staring. He hears soft calls of EDI’s name from them as well.

There’s no response.

“Joker,” Liara says.

“No! No she’s not gone, she _can’t_ be gone she’s a fucking AI they don’t just _die-_ “

“Joker,” Liara says again. He doesn’t listen, he keeps trying to bring her to life, searching systems and programs for any sign of her.

And then Tali screams, “Joker!”

And then they’re crashing.


	2. decimation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a shorter chapter, but i'm like. halfway through the next one and it's looking to be longer, so I hope y'all enjoy that. also i'd like to thank my best friend (veravia on here) for being the best and reading over my stuff before i post it. you guys should also go check out her fic i love her dearly n e ways on with the show.

Garrus feels the way his body aches before he fully realizes what’s happened. His memory is… damaged, at best. He remembers Tali screaming, Joker rushing to fix anything he could and get control over the Normandy, the feeling of Liara’s grip on his arm, tight and terrified. He remembers thinking of the Reapers, thinking that sure, he’d managed to survive their onslaught of destruction, but a loss of power, being sucked into some random planet’s atmosphere—yeah, that was going to be the thing to take him out.

He opens his eyes and, on instinct, begins to search for Shepard. A glimpse of her hair, or the sound of her voice, anything to make sure that she’s safe and there.

And of course, reality hits him like a damn bullet. She's certainly not the latter, and he has no way of confirming if she’s the former.

He turns, and groans, slowly allowing his eyes to open. The cockpit is a mess, EDI’s body slumped over in her chair, still lifeless and, if Garrus is being honest, a little haunting. After so many months of being so used to that body being a means for statistical comfort—a kind of comfort that was, frankly, lacking during this time—seeing the lights dim, the screen before the eyes nonexistent—Garrus isn’t sure it’s much different from seeing a dead organic.

He groans again as he attempts to sit up, trying to gain a sense of his surroundings. Joker’s leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, blood dripping down from his forehead. From a first glance, it doesn’t look like he broke anything, but there’s no telling how much damage Garrus can’t see.

He looks to his left now, where Liara and Tali lay. Between him and them, a fucking tree branch found its way into the Normandy. He’s surprised he hadn’t heard the sizzling of the wires before, because now it’s just about all he can hear. The branch goes all the way through, cutting wires and metal along the way, causing the ceiling to rain with little blue sparks of electricity and the floor to sizzle beneath him. If he places a hand wrong, or steps in the wrong place, he’s sure he’s going to feel soreness from more than just the crash and his previous injuries.

His eyes follow the length of the branch, until they finally fall down to where Tali and Liara lay. Liara, he notices, has a few minor cuts along her side—ones that certainly weren’t there before. Based on where she is, he guesses either the metal the branch decided to tear through or the branch itself left those there, but at least she isn’t bleeding too much, nothing a little medigel couldn’t fix, anyway.

Then he looks to Tali, who, surprisingly, looks the least damaged of anyone. He supposes she has her suit to thank for that. Any damage that she has looks like it was from Earth, patched up and hopefully not reopened.

Garrus sighs then, and begins to work his way to his feet. As he puts weight on his left leg, he can’t even attempt to keep the hiss of pain quiet. He grabs hold of the branch, trying to avoid the few sparks that trickle down from the roof, and pulls himself up. It takes just about all the strength he has left, so when he’s finally standing, he finds himself taking a few deep breaths.

Maybe the crash took more out of him than he thought.

He hears Tali groan from behind him, her usual half-organic, half-mechanical whir giving him all the tell he needs.

“Tali?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just-“ She starts to prop herself up onto her elbows, then groans, “give me a hand?”

Garrus reaches out without another thought, this time trying his absolute  _ best  _ to limit the groan that escapes him. Tali’s had enough, she doesn’t need to think that she’s hurting him to add to the list.

When Tali’s standing, they look out over the rest of the crew at the main console. They’re all spread out, some with blood coating their hair, others seemingly unscathed. Either way, Garrus is sure the crew’ll have their fair share of concussions to go around.

“Fuck,” Joker breathes. Garrus turns, and spots Joker in nearly the same position he’d last seen him in, but with his head turned towards EDI. “So it wasn’t all just some fucked up dream, huh?”

“Don’t we all wish it was,” Tali replies. As Garrus starts to work his way to Joker to offer him help, Tali crouches down, using the same branch he used earlier for support, to check on Liara.

Garrus reaches out a hand to Joker, but he waves him away, doing his best to pull himself up on his own. It’s after a few seconds, when Garrus tilts his head at him and sticks out his hand in offering once again, that Joker admits defeat and holds on, begrudgingly taking the support.

“Any luck with Liara?” Garrus asks, not even turning to look back.

“I’m awake,” She replies, and he turns to see her sitting up on the floor, one hand wrapped around herself and covering her side while the other rubs her forehead. “Barely,” She adds.

“Where the hell are we?” Garrus asks. He looks to Joker, but he’s barely awake enough to really register that the Normandy crashed, much less to figure out where in the galaxy they managed to make a crater.

“Nearest hospitable planet, apparently,” Tali replies.

Garrus sighs, “Very helpful Tali, thank you.”

“We should get out there,” Joker says. He limps past Garrus, and then past Tali and Liara, using the walls for support as he continues. “Get a sense for what we’re up against.”

“I’ll find a way to get the internal comms system back online,” Tali says, staying behind. Liara begins to move towards the central console.

“And I’ll do my best for those injured here-“

“Liara,” Garrus interrupts. She looks at him, head tilted in confusion. “At least take care of your own injuries first. There’s spare medigel on the wall over there.” He points to the left, just before the entrance to the bridge.

“Oh.” She looks down at where her hand is still covering the scrapes in her side. When she pulls her hand away, there’s a purple tint to it. “Right.”

“I’ll head out with Joker.” Garrus looks to him, and Joker’s quick to motion him to come along. Garrus grabs a spare rifle by the exit. It’s not his favorite, but these are desperate times.

As they exit the Normandy, Garrus takes note of how it managed to land. It’s flat, thank the spirits, but cliffs surround them. He supposes that, should he need to, he could use one of the giant, overarching trees from the cliffs as a vantage point.

That’s also something he should take note of. The abundance of fucking  _ trees.  _ They climb up the side of the cliff, permeating every spare inch of dirt. Below them, the foliage certainly isn’t lacking either. They’ve managed to land on a bit of shrubbery, and it appears they’ve crushed a few trees in the process. Or at least crushed the ones that didn’t penetrate into the various cabins.

Above them, two moons lay in crescents. Garrus looks to Joker.

“Any idea where this is?”

Joker sighs. He lets his hands trace over the Normandy’s lettering, scraped and worn from the past few days.

“None,” He replies.

Garrus brings the sniper up to his eyes, using the scope as a way to scan the area. He doesn’t see any signs of life—intelligent or otherwise—on the clifftops, but as he drops his focus from there down to the area of shrubbery around them, he takes notice of the small shuffles in the field of green.

To the right, he can see the glimpse of a waterfall, hidden behind more clifftops and more trees. At least they’ll have a water source, just in case the Normandy’s stores aren’t enough. He remembers looking over Shepard’s logs a few days ago, checking them over for fuel, food, and water.

For those who weren’t Turian or Quarian? They had a few months.

He and Tali would be the least of their troubles. Shepard had always made sure they stocked up—claimed she wanted to give them the freedom of choice in their meals.

Now he thinks it might’ve been less the idea of choice, and more her own anxiety wanting to make sure he and Tali would be okay in an emergency. It was never like they were short on Alliance funding anyway.

As far as water goes, it’s probably best they have a nearby source.

“So,” Garrus begins, “What’s our plan?”

“Start repairs, I guess,” Joker says. He takes a step back, looking at the length of the Normandy. “And in the meantime, try and get external comms up and running. If they don’t work on their own, we might have to set up an emergency signal beacon, or try and get our emergency comm tower working but, hell, who knows when that’s last been used.”

“So we’re stranded.”

Garrus looks out over the greenery again. It’s warm here, but based on the plants, it looks like it rains often. Of all the places to be stranded, he supposes that this isn’t the worst of them.

He knows the way Shepard would take this. She’d sit down on the edge of their platform, rifle in her lap. She’d do a scan of the area all on her own, assess the damages of the Normandy.  _ Make the best of it,  _ she’d say,  _ and soon we’ll get the hell out of here. _

Right now, Garrus is in dire need of that bit of optimism. That they’ll be out of here before he even starts to miss the essence of exploration that tends to come with space. They’ll be out of here before Shepard even finds her way out of the hospital, likely sneaking past doctors to get an early out.

“Yeah,” Joker says, “Stranded.”

Wordlessly, they both head back inside. Liara’s managed to get a few of the crew members up and moving, and Garrus notices Kaidan and Chakwas working alongside her. Liara has, thankfully, wrapped bandages around her side, but they’ve tinted to a sickeningly purple color. He hopes her cuts weren’t worse than he thought. 

He notices that James must’ve also managed to crawl his way through the vents—lord knows how, but he stands in the corner near Cortez as he works on a circuit board, uncharacteristically quiet.

Garrus and Joker arrive back to the bridge, where Tali’s started her work on the internal comms system. The orange console reflects back on her helmet, making Garrus wonder how she ever gets any work done on consoles, but she manages. It might just be his imagination, but it feels like the tech is starting to glow a little brighter—hopefully the work of Cortez and that circuit board.

“Any luck with the comms?” Joker asks.

“We’re making some progress, but it’s difficult with the limited power we’re getting. We really need to fix those wires.” She looks over to where the branch pierced the middle of the cockpit, a rather unpleasant reminder of the crash. “And preferably take that damn branch out of here.”

When Garrus had first woken up, he hadn’t fully come to terms with the branch in the middle of the room. Honestly, it seemed like just another occurrence, another thing for him to simply accept and move on with. Now, looking at the way the wires have singed certain parts of it, and the way the metal that surrounds it tore and warped, it feels much more deadly. Just a few more inches over, and the metal could’ve been Liara’s torso.

The thought makes his blood run cold.

He shakes it off, and turns back to Tali, whose fingers are once again running over various consoles and systems.

“Any idea where Javik is? And Donnelly and Daniels, while you’re at it.” Garrus hopes the whereabouts of those three will act as a welcome distraction from the now uncomfortable air he gets from being around that damn branch.

Branch is starting to seem like too docile a word for it, it was practically a spear.

“Cortez visited engineering on his way up. Javik is still in cargo. He said he seemed upset.”

“Yeah,” Garrus replies, “I don’t think he was planning on sticking around for too long after everything.”

Tali nods. “So I’d heard.” A moment of silence passes between them. Joker moves to work on his own console, likely trying to figure out those external comms. “As far as Daniels and Donnelly, they’re doing some repairs on the engine. Cortez told me they’d said to keep up my work on the comms. I’ll go down after I’m done to assist them.”

And that’s the thing—despite everything, everyone seems so calm. EDI’s body still lays in her chair, and while Garrus has noticed the way Tali tries to block Joker’s gaze, and the way Joker tries to block his own gaze, there’s no mention of it. No movement to take her body and move it to the AI core—not that it’d be an easy task, considering the lack of elevators at the moment.

But even despite that, everyone has chosen to simply continue with their work. They’re all acting as though Shepard is here, ordering them to their various tasks and giving them the resources they need to do it. From the outside? It feels like none of them feel her absence.

But spirits, Garrus feels lost.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, and he feels dumb for saying it. Everyone knows what they’re doing, but he’s certainly not the one to assist with tech repairs, and that’s just about all there is.

“We could use an assessment of the perimeter. Are you in good enough shape to do that?” Joker glances back to look over Garrus as he speaks, raising his eyebrows at him ever so slightly.

_ Hell no. _

“I’ll get by, yeah.”

“Good.” Joker reaches under his console then, and tosses Garrus something. He catches it, turning it over in his hand. It’s clunky, and looks awfully old for the time. He isn’t even sure where Joker would  _ find  _ tech like this anymore.

“The hell is this?”

And then, despite it all, Joker, laughs—more of a breath than anything, but laughter at that. “It’s a walkie-talkie, Garrus. We’re in the stone age now. Press the button on the side and speak into it. I have another one. Give me updates on your location every now and then, and radio me if you need any help.”

Garrus breathes out a curse.

He takes it all back, this really is hell.


	3. aches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i suffered from writer's block for a bit but i'm back and this is great and i hope you enjoy!! also thank you to everyone that's left comments and kudos!! I really appreciate it :)))

This place—it reminds him of where he grew up on Palaven. The treetops are high above him, coating him and the path that lays ahead in shadows.

Although, path is a rough term for it. He steps between foliage, avoiding leaves and branches because he hates the way it feels when they scrape against his armor. But as he continues, his limp gets worse, and the ache in his muscles begins to feel more like something he’s tearing.

But he supplements the pain with happy memories. Being a young Turian, one that wasn’t yet shaped by the cruelties of war, laughing with his mother and father. There had been so few expectations for him back then, so few ways for him to leave his life and others’ ripped at the seams.

He hadn’t been time-worn yet. His laughter wasn’t gruff, or a wheeze, it was bright and filled with the kind of wonder and awe that only a child can possess.

But with the reminder of his home, innocence, and the quiet comfort that came with childhood, also came the reminder of Virmire.

It’s odd now, to think that he sees a place that reminds him so much of home, and then remember the way Virmire had looked, war torn and burning, but still have a sense of familiarity and comfort at the memory. Back then, it had all been so easy. Sure, they were still terrified for their lives, and any moment could have been the end, but the Reapers seemed like a far off threat, one that was partially made of fantasy.

Back then, the Reapers had reminded him of the ghost stories he’d tell his sister as children. They were figures shrouded in darkness—barely understood and barely known—nothing more than the physical embodiments of fear, death, and greed, all beyond his comprehension.

On Virmire, their biggest fear was Saren—or rather his escape. Other problems included calming Wrex down enough to make sure he wouldn’t try to shoot Shepard. Thinking of the way Wrex threatened the Salarians on Sur’Kesh, he supposes that some things never change.

But on the other hand, some things  _ do  _ change. Saren is no longer their biggest threat, never really was if he’s being honest, but neither are the Reapers. Damned things are dead. Or at least, he hopes they are.

He doesn’t really have any form of confirmation on that—other than EDI’s statement that the particle field was targeting synthetics and then her death—but he can’t even be sure if the Reapers could have been killed by that.

For so long, they’d been an unstoppable force. No matter what they threw at them, there was always some roadblock, some extra hurdle that they had no way of knowing about prior to the moment it became a problem.

But there Shepard always was, as quick witted as she was on her feet, prepared to give them hell right back.

Part of him thinks that she  _ enjoyed  _ the fight, that maybe she liked the mental challenge. He sure as hell knows that there’s few things that filled him with more of a sense of accomplishment than finally watching that Reaper go down on Tuchanka, and then again Rannoch.

_ Spirits. _

Garrus pauses where he’s walking in the path. His body is  _ screaming.  _ He looks up above him, the sun still sits high in the sky, and he’s starting to wonder what the  _ hell  _ the day cycle looks like here.

His breathing is heavy, and labored, and part of it is from overexerting himself, sure, but the other part-

He sticks the butt of his rifle into the dirt, trying to steady himself since his two  _ fucking legs  _ aren’t enough.

He feels weak—pathetic, even. He’s spent months— _ years _ —chasing after the Reapers, fighting against the most formidable opponent he can think of, but after their defeat, after the war has been fought and hopefully  _ won,  _ his body finally breaks.

He spent weeks on end out on Menae, he spent days on end defending his base on Omega, he’s followed Shepard through hell and back, only using medigel to stitch himself together and numb the pain. But here he is.

A breath rattles through his teeth. 

He whispers a curse. He just wants to sit down, lay his head against a tree, and allow himself to rest, just for a moment. He looks up, and ahead of him, there’s a tree with a large overhang, allowing for shade from the sun. Underneath, a majority of the shrubbery has been blocked from any and all sunlight, creating a small clearing for him to sit in.

He looks back at the ground he’s covered. He’s been able to scout out a majority of the walkable land around the Normandy. He only has the waterfall to get to, really, and maybe they can save that for tomorrow, or at least until after he’s had a moment of rest.

And so, Garrus moves forward, making steady ground towards the tree. He fumbles as he moves, sometimes using his rifle as a cane as he walks. His left leg is burning, and there’s a joint in his hip that keeps popping every time he takes a step, so when he finally reaches the little clearing, he collapses.

His back is against the tree, and he pulls his knees up by his torso.

Beneath him, the ground is cool—a moment of solace from the burning heat of the sun and searing pain of his muscles.

He sighs. When was the last time he just sat down?

Maybe- maybe it was before their attempt with the crucible, when he’d sat with Shepard and talked that next morning. Sure, it wasn’t a comforting conversation, and the upcoming attack loomed over them with every passing moment, but the memory itself is a good one.

He always liked to be awake just a bit before Shepard was. He liked the proof that she was actually sleeping, actually getting some rest. If he just sent her to go to sleep, he had no way of knowing if she listened to him. But when he was in her cabin, sitting at her desk silently working as she slept, he could be sure of it.

And part of him liked seeing her like that—separate from the terrors they were currently facing. So when she started getting nightmares, he knew. There was no longer an escape from the Reapers for her. They followed her into her subconscious, carving creases into her skin even as she slept. 

_ Damn it. _

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead forward against his fist. This is all so  _ stupid. _ He should be on Earth, next to Shepard. He should’ve followed her into the Citadel, he should’ve been there the entire  _ fucking  _ time.

If he’d been a little quicker, if he’d been a little smarter, he wouldn’t be here, stuck on some hellish planet with no way of knowing if she’s fucking  _ alive. _

Part of him doesn’t even want that thought to cross his mind, wants to hold onto optimism for as long as it’s offered. The other part of him is the fucking  _ Turian  _ part—telling him to prepare for the worst, and be surprised by anything else.

He  _ really  _ wants to scream.

He’s useless. There’s nothing to snipe, no husks to fight off, no missiles to fire, no AA guns to take out, there’s nothing. Nothing that he’s good at, anyway. His entire life, he was built to be a soldier. Now, the biggest war of his life is behind him, but the biggest hurdle still lays ahead. All to get back to Shepard.

Leaning against this tree, it all feels so faraway. The Reapers didn’t even touch this planet. Its inhabitants lie unknowing—a luxury so few have. He absently wonders what life would have been like if the Reapers had never existed in the first place.

He can’t imagine there would have been peace, but certainly, there would’ve been so much less destruction.

A few days ago, Garrus spoke with his sister. She told him about the way Palaven burned. The home he grew up in was left in ashes, their childhood left to blow away in the wind. Any physical memories of his mother were eaten in the same beam of red light that destroyed the rest of his home.

For so many years, he had chased Solana around that house, terrorizing her in the way only siblings do, until he was met with a stern look from one of his parents. Those memories—he feels a lot of pain in their absence.

But, without the Reapers—as hellish as these last few years have been, the amount of days, weeks, months—hell, fucking  _ decades _ —that have been shaved off of his lifespan from them—he can’t say he’d be any happier. These weapons of destruction and terror, these creatures of death and fear, they caused so many lives to intertwine.

He will never be able to relive those memories in his childhood home because of their destruction, but without it, he would never be where he is now.

Looking back at the Normandy, scratched and broken, he can only think that maybe where he is now isn’t the absolute  _ best  _ of situations.

But then his mind falls back, once more, to Shepard.

It feels so stupid, to be sitting in the midst of a foreign planet, trying to get back to developed space, and to only be concerned about his girlfriend.

Would it feel better or worse if he called her his commander in this moment?

Trying to get back to his commander, it’s a level of importance that Turian command and the Alliance would respect, it’s something that the Primarch would encourage, telling him to get back on his feet and hurry, before someone else finds her first.

Trying to get back to his girlfriend, on the other hand—

It’s something his mother would’ve worried about. She would’ve taken his hand, placing her other hand on the top of his mandible, and smiled down at him. Her words would’ve been soft spoken, something that was so hard to find back on Palaven, and she would’ve told him to go. Chase after her, do everything he can to protect the things that he loves—spirits know those are the things most worth protecting.

Garrus doesn’t know when he breaks, somewhere along the train of thought of his mother, and the fact that she’ll never even get the chance to know Shepard like he does. But his voice breaks through and morphs into a scream as he leans down, putting his head between his legs as the yell tears through his body.

_ Fucking useless. _

Then Joker’s walkie-talkie makes a  _ horrid  _ noise, and Garrus groans as he moves to grab it.

“Garrus? Come in.” Joker’s voice rings through—as mechanic and staticky as it is—and for a moment, Garrus is thankful for the break from the voice inside his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” He replies.

“It’s been a bit,” There’s a moment of silence over the line, and Garrus realizes that with how far he is from the ship, it’s not  _ entirely  _ unlikely that the crew might’ve heard his little outburst. “You doing alright out there?”

“Yeah I’m fine just-“ Garrus sighs. There’s no real end to that sentence. Just my body feels like it’s actively fighting against every move I make? Just my girlfriend could be dead and I’d have no idea? Or she’s alive and thinks  _ I’m  _ dead? Or how about the easy one—just my entire life is crumbling around me and the only thing I’ve managed to do about it so far is do a shit job of scouting out an area and scream?

Fuck, he’s a mess.

“Garrus,” Joker says. Garrus absently wonders when Joker started getting that serious tone of voice down. Maybe he practices it in the mirror. “Come back for a bit, you can finish scouting later.”

He doesn’t even have enough fight left in him to argue back, so he says okay, picks his rifle up, and starts to make his way back to the Normandy.

It’s harder now, and his hip is no longer the only joint that’s popping—there’s a new one in his ankle that has decided to take the majority of his attention—but he’s managing.

He feels like he’s  _ dying,  _ but yeah. Managing.

When he arrives back at the Normandy, his limp is certainly more noticeable than it was before, and he’s given up on trying to hide it. He notices the way Liara has chosen to stand by the door. There’s a datapad in her hand, and a majority of her focus is on the screen in front of her when he first moves into view, but that changes as soon as she hears his first step.

Her eyes snap up to his, and then his name falls out of her mouth in a gasp as she scans him. He looks at her, eyes pleading, silently asking that she doesn’t make a scene of this, that she lets him get to Joker and ask what else he can do. Or he could go to Tali maybe, and he could help her with whatever tech she asked. He might need to do something more  _ simple,  _ sure, but, it’s something, right? He has to do  _ something. _

He takes a step into the ship, Liara close behind him, and he goes to turn to the bridge to check up on Joker but-

He doesn’t make it that far.

“Garrus.” Chakwas’ voice is sharp, a sudden sound in his ears that is  _ not  _ welcome in this moment. “Oh you-“

His entire body tenses and he squeezes his eyes shut as he turns around. The way he leans on his right leg surely doesn’t help his case here, but if he leans on his left one, he’s going to make things worse.

He notices the way Liara watches from the corner, eyebrows raised as she glances between them. Chakwas stands in front of him, and although Garrus towers over her, there’s a certain presence she has that makes him want to shrink into the corner with the spare medigel. Maybe he’d be able to patch himself up over there actually, make a good attempt to avoid her scolding.

“You need to rest,” She says. Her arms are crossed in front of her, and her expression is nearly blank except for the way her eyes narrow at him as she looks over his leg. “Now.”

“Doctor, there’s so much work to be done, I’m no good if I’m sitting around-“

“And you’re no good if I have to put you in a cast either. Bed.”

He tries again to argue, but she gives him a pointed look, raising her eyebrows as she bites the inside of her cheek.

“There’s not enough room on the main deck for me to just lay down-“

“Cortez has the elevator up and running, doesn’t he?”

Garrus hears Cortez shout a ‘yes ma’am!’ from the bridge. He sighs, there’s really no escape from this.

“So,” Chakwas begins, “I’d say you have your fair share of beds to choose from, so I’ll say it one last time—rest.”

He looks back at the bridge, where Joker promptly turns around from watching their conversation to busy himself in his console. He brings his gaze back to Liara ahead of him, and she nods her head towards the elevators, making a general motion towards his leg.

And so he agrees. Chakwas’ face goes to one of  _ sickening  _ triumph, and he makes his way towards the elevator. His limp is only worse from standing there for so long, because now his right leg is starting to get sore from holding all his weight, but he finds a bit of comfort in knowing that he’ll be off it soon.

And as much as he hates to admit it, because  _ god  _ he hates to admit it, rest does sound nice right now.

When he reaches the elevator, his hand hovers over the buttons. Normally, when he thinks of rest, he’d go to Shepard’s cabin. 

He’d been in there without her so many times before. If she was ever out on a mission and he couldn’t go, and the stress of not knowing how she was doing made calibrating too difficult, he would find himself in her cabin. He’d look over the mission briefing there, going over schematics and working through problems in his head. Sometimes he’d try to guess where she was in the mission, if she was making her way through a certain part of the building or if she was just getting outside. He always kept the comm lines open with Joker during those moments, and Joker would feed information to him whenever he could.

Or there were other times, when Shepard would be briefing the various political leaders they kept in their company in the war room, and he’d sit on her bed, waiting for her. She’d always come back to her room, eyes heavy and complaining of a headache, so he’d find her medicine that she  _ always  _ refused to take if no one brought it to her, and force her to take it to get rid of the headache, and then he’d listen.

He’d listen to the way she’d talk about the political leaders, how much they annoyed her, or how, for once, a councilor said something  _ actually intelligent.  _ She told him about how much the Quarian Admirals annoyed her, but how grateful she was to see Tali again.

Those days of waiting, he never thought he’d find himself yearning to be in that kind of wait once more.

This form of waiting, the one filled with uncertainty, he’s decided is the  _ worst  _ form.

He thinks about pressing the button for the crew’s level and the mess hall, maybe seeing if Liara will let him sleep in her bed, or maybe if the cramped crew’s quarters beds will work enough for his leg, but the thought doesn’t even stay in his mind long enough to really be a consideration.

Part of him wants to go to Shepard’s cabin, he knows it. Part of him wants to see the pieces of her that are scattered around. The blanket she’d bought on the citadel, the way her eyes lit up when she told him just how  _ soft  _ it was.

Or the ship models she had on display. The way they sat above her desk, some suspended in the glass. He loved watching her set them up in her cabin. If he didn’t know a ship, she’d go into detail about it, tell him all about the history. Eventually, he stopped caring if he knew about a ship, so he’d ask her about all of them, just to hear her voice.

He presses the button for her cabin.

The elevator moves slowly, makes some groaning noises, but it’s better than it was before. That being said, he’s grateful it’s a short ride up to the cabin. He doesn’t think his body could handle an elevator accident today.

The elevator steadies itself, and he moves out into the corridor before her door. There’s a moment where he hesitates, where his mind tells him to run, to move back into the elevator and go down to the mess hall and  _ hell,  _ maybe a table will work as a nice enough bed, anything other than this.

His heart begs for something different.

And his body desires rest more than his mind wishes for avoidance.

And so he steps in, allowing the doors to hiss open ahead of him. Some part of him thought it might look different, or that Shepard might’ve been behind the doors, a ‘surprise!’ waiting on her tongue and a smile crossing her face.

It’s entirely out of character for her, he knows, but his heart has never been very good at rationalizing anyway.

But it all looks the same. Sure, a few of the ship models fell on the floor from the crash, and her bed is a bit of a mess, but it’s all the same. His eyes fall to the floor, and he sees something scurry along the desk and towards his feet.

He curses, fighting through the pain of his body to reach down and grab her hamster. He catches it on the first time—for once—and looks over to see his cage turned over on the ground. Garrus lets him sit in his left hand while he reaches to grab his cage, and then gently sets him in the container and moves it back to its place on Shepard’s shelf. He reaches over and puts some food in there with him, and makes sure the water is filled too.

He looks over to Shepard’s fish tank. Honestly, he’s surprised that there isn’t any broken glass, but he supposes Cerberus would’ve known to make it reinforced to withstand most mishaps—a captain’s cabin doesn’t do much good if it’s flooded after every minor inconvenience.

He makes his way over, and then notices that the fish-feeding VI is down. He curses again, and looks around for where Shepard keeps the fish food. He hobbles over to the desk drawer and opens it, grabbing the fish food in there and then hobbling his way back over to fill the feeder.

His eyes fall onto the VI. He  _ could  _ try to get it up and running again. But then he moves to his left leg, and he can’t help the gasp that escapes him.

“Damnit,” He whispers. “Tomorrow.” He looks back at the VI as he makes his way towards the bed, feeling almost guilty for pushing it off.

But then he sits down on the bed, and a wave of relief rushes through him. He lets himself lean back, and then he breathes in, his head falling to the side and his eyes falling shut.

And he realizes, it smells like her.

His head buries into a pillow, and he breathes in again. Her pillow still smells like her, and he guesses that shouldn’t be surprising considering it’s only been a day, but just to have this piece of her—it’s more than he thought he’d get today.

And although it’s more than he thought, his heart  _ aches.  _ Sure, it’s a piece of her and he loves it and he’s happy to have it but  _ spirits,  _ it’s not her.

Nothing here is entirely her.

The pieces here can only form a fragment of her being. They can’t give him the sound of her voice, or her laughter close to his ear, or the feeling of her skin on his.

Nothing here is quite good enough.

He flips over onto his back, pillow still wrapped in one of his arms, and stares at the ceiling.

Everything fucking  _ aches. _

And he’s so tired.

If he thinks hard enough, maybe he can feel her touch again, like phantoms moving across his skin. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to recreate some fraction of her in his mind, just enough to give him a sense of comfort.

That thought about his mother sneaks in again. She would’ve loved Shepard. Back with Cerberus, he would call her and tell her all about Shepard. He’s not sure how much she remembered of the stories, but whenever he’d call, she’d ask again.

_ Tell me about your commander,  _ She’d say.

And so he would, all the way from c-sec to the present. He’d tell her everything he remembered, until the details were imprinted in his mind, a forever memory that he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

Missed memories. He wishes that when he grew old, he could look back on moments between Shepard and his mother. He wishes he could look back on them talking, laughing with each other. Both of them making fun of him for being so stubborn.

For a moment, he swears he can picture it. The way Shepard would lean into his arm as they spoke, her smiling and talking animatedly.

She’d be so at ease. For once, she’d be able to relax.

He’s almost fallen asleep to that thought when he hears the doors hiss open. Garrus pushes himself up so he’s leaning against the headboard, and opens his eyes to see Liara standing there, datapad in hand.

“I had a feeling you’d be in here,” She says. Her eyes look around the cabin, brows knitting together. She tucks her datapad close to torso, and moves about the room, picking up the models and putting them in their places. That wave of guilt hits Garrus again. He could’ve been doing something, but instead here he is, laying in bed falling asleep to fucking  _ fantasies. _

He’s so  _ fucking  _ useless.

Liara wordlessly moves about the room. Her eyes fall to the VI, and she purses her lips. She leans down to look at it, bringing up a terminal on her datapad for a moment. She curses to herself and puts the datapad on the desk then, finally stopping her movement.

“Liara, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?”

She pauses, wringing her hands together and looking down at the floor.

“Well, I thought you might need the company, but it seems that you’re doing a bit better than before. I just didn’t know if being alone was the best for you-“

Garrus puts up a hand to stop her from rambling, and she nods. He hasn’t seen her like this since Saren. She’s gotten so much more sure of herself, so much steadier, but here she is, uncertain and, well, scared.

And after a moment Garrus realizes that maybe she needs the company as much as she thinks he does.

“No, actually I could- I could use the company, yeah,” He replies. A smile makes its way onto her face then, and she nods, finding a spot at Shepard’s desk and taking a seat in her chair.

“What are you working on?” Garrus asks. Liara grabs her datapad, flicking through a few screens before sighing.

“Trying to get an extranet connection.” She furrows her eyebrows again, and then moves to fiddle with the terminal that sits near Shepard’s desk. She makes a few movements, fingers quick over the keys, and then goes back to her datapad.

“I’m guessing it’s no luck then,” He replies flatly.

Liara stays silent, continuing to work between different platforms, even moving over to take a look at the larger terminal that sits by the ship models. Garrus notices the way her eyes flick over to the VI as she moves over there, but he doesn’t say anything. He could probably use the help getting it up and running tomorrow anyway, so if she decides to fix it now-

Well, he’s not going to complain.

And so they stay like that. She works quietly, and Garrus lays back against the bed, still taking in the leftover pieces of Shepard that cover the room. He rearranged some of the pillows, picking up a few that managed to fall on the floor during the crash, and he reaches over to grab the blanket—ignoring the concerned look Liara gives him when he groans at the reach. But he wraps the blanket around himself, ignoring the way it catches a bit on his talons.

But finally, he falls asleep like that. He listens to the soft click of Liara’s work, the hum of the technology in the room, the way she sighs when she doesn’t make a breakthrough.

And in that moment, he’s thankful. Because for the first time today, things feel just a little bit normal.


	4. hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! this chapter is very long so i hope y'all enjoy it. i know i've replied to the commenters, but the comments really are super appreciated :) and thanks to everyone that's left kudos! and everyone that's read this! i really appreciate it :) thank you

Garrus wakes to the sound of soft static and Liara’s quiet gasps. He doesn’t expect it to be Liara sitting there, if he’s honest. Although nothing about her sounds like Shepard, not even in the slightest, he can’t help the disappointment that washes through him when his eyes open to see her pale blue instead of Shepard’s fiery red.

The static continues to flow through the room, and Garrus groans at the noise. Between the ache in his leg and shoulder and that damned noise, he’s having trouble keeping his agitation at bay.

“Liara, what’s that-“

“I think I have an extranet connection,” She says, answering him before the question even manages to leave his mouth.

And then he sits up, ignoring the way the left side of his body screams at him to  _ stop moving _ . His eyes look over her console from the bed, watching the screen for anything that he might be able to catch.

“Is there a news vid? Or anything? Anything we can play?” He asks. He’s leaning forward now, trying to catch a glimpse of  _ anything  _ about Shepard, or the Reapers, or hell, even the fucking Alliance. Just  _ something. _

“The connection’s pretty unstable—it’s just running off of the Normandy’s extranet systems, and I’ve only been able to get that running up here. If I could just-“ Liara moves away from her datapad now to face the terminal, reworking some systems and creating connections that Garrus is sure he doesn’t understand.

_ Fucking C-sec and their stupid “basic tech” course. Didn’t do fucking shit. _

Liara moves back to her datapad again and clicks on a link, and then a holovid pops up between them, blue light cascading about the room. Joy emerges on Liara’s face, the blue from the vid complimenting the blue from her eyes. Garrus never thought he’d be so happy to see this specific hue of light.

The newscaster’s voice crackles to life. It’s broken and mechanical, but he can pick up pieces of sentences and words. It’s enough for now.

“This is from today, I didn’t think they’d have tech up and running for this by now,” Liara says, but Garrus is too engrossed in the news to pay much attention.

“The Reapers…” The audio cuts out, fizzling in and out of static, the video glitches for a moment, and then comes back to life, “strewn throughout… cities. Appear… inactive. It is advised that you keep… distance for safety.”

“Shepard did it,” Garrus whispers. Everything before had pointed to this, from Hackett’s exclamation to leave the system to EDI’s death, but to hear it, to hear that the Reapers have become inactive-

Maybe he’s still asleep.

“She did it,” Liara repeats. Their eyes meet, and Garrus swears he can see the beginning of tears forming in Liara’s eyes. He reaches a hand out towards her and lets her move in to hug him. Liara moves to the bed to crumple into his side, and he lets his arm fall over her shoulders, carefully acting as her comfort, but his eyes stay trained on the broadcast.

“Commander Shepard… critical condition.”

“She’s alive,” He says. Liara perks up then, eyes moving towards the vid again. Garrus takes his arm away from her and stands up. “Liara, she’s alive, we have to get to Earth.”

“Garrus you know that’s going to take time-“

“We have to get there.”

He pauses, looking around the room. Part of him feels like running down to the bridge, screaming to everyone that  _ she’s alive _ .

“Garrus, they said critical condition.” Liara’s voice breaks through, and his gaze moves back to her. “We don’t know what that entails. She might-“

“Don’t say it, Liara.”

“I don’t want to think it either, but we have to be reasonable here. If we make any mistakes while repairing the ship we could lose lives,” She says.

“And if we don’t get back to Earth we may all lose Shepard.”

“That might happen either way.”

Silence settles between them. Garrus doesn’t know when, but tears had slipped from Liara’s eyes and fell quietly down her cheeks. Her voice shakes when she speaks again.

“I want to get back there, Garrus, I do, but we have to do this right. We should tell the crew what we know, and then try to send a message to Alliance command.”

He allows his breath to run through him, letting his heart rate settle and his mind to stop racing.

“You’re right,” He whispers.

Liara moves then, standing up from the bed to place a hand on his shoulder.

“If Alliance Command can send evac, I’ll make sure you’re one of the people on it.”

His training tells him to fight against that, to argue that he’d never leave his crew alone. But here—what the hell is he good for here? He’s never fixed a ship in his life, never done anything more than optimize algorithms and the weapons systems on this ship. This kind of tech—it just isn’t his expertise. And he sure as hell can’t learn anything knowing that Shepard is somewhere out there, lying in a hospital bed alone.

“Thank you, Liara,” He replies. She nods, and then gathers her things to inform the crew.

“Meet me down there, okay? I think we’ll need to have a meeting after this,” She says.

“And who’s supposed to lead that?”

“Garrus-“

And there’s that silence again. When did he become so slow? Liara tilts her head at him, eyebrows furrowed together.

“You’re the closest thing we have to a commander right now.”

“How in the-“

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, because we all know that out of everyone, you’re being hit the hardest right now, but-“ She pauses, pursing her lips as she thinks, “You’ve been checking up on everyone, haven’t you? Sure, we’ve all done our part and gotten things together on our own but Garrus, you’ve been the one to keep everyone safe—except for yourself, of course.”

“Liara, I haven’t done shit.”

“Just, trust me on this one, okay? You’re the only one that’s done this before, and you’ve done more than you know.”

With that, Liara leaves, allowing the doors to Shepard’s room to hiss behind her. And then Garrus is alone again, left with nothing but his thoughts to gnaw at the quiet that surrounds him.

For so long, the Normandy had been prided on the fact that it was silent. The fact that the engine couldn’t be heard throughout the ship. Now, he almost wishes he could hear the soft hum of the core—anything to distract his mind.

He closes his eyes, and takes a breath.

He’s seen Shepard do this more times than he can count. He’s followed her into hell, watched as the flames of war engulfed her only for her to come out with barely more than a scratch.

He’s also watched them burn her, watched as they ate away at her only to leave the jagged marks of her nightmares singed into her mind.

He’s seen her do so much, lead so many away from those fires, watched as she shielded them and forced them away from the scorching heat.

How is he ever meant to replicate that? How is he ever meant to step into her role, act as the line between chaos and order, and get them back home?

His last team—they were killed under his command. Their names carved into his visor, they’re all proof of his failures. He can’t possibly be expected to take on this role, and then, worst of all, abandon them the second he finds the opportunity.

His thoughts wander to Kaidan.

Kaidan’s less experienced—most of his missions for the Alliance were solo, and even then, he doesn’t have the trust of the crew. Garrus knows the crew—himself included—tries to hide it, but after seeing Kaidan’s blatant distrust of Shepard, the way he disregarded her every move despite everything she managed to prove to him, it’s hard to stand behind him. At least, harder to stand behind him than it is Shepard.

But still, Kaidan has to be a better leader than Garrus could be. The Alliance crew, they’d trust him. Or, better than they’d trust Garrus.

He sighs then, bringing his hand up to his forehead, lightly pressing there in an attempt to get rid of the headache that’s started to form. He scrunches his eyes, and then takes another breath.

This is all too much.

_ But,  _ he thinks,  _ She’s alive. She’s out there on Earth somewhere. _

Was she still in London? Laying in a makeshift hospital, the screams of the damned surrounding her? In London, embers would still move their way through the air, forcing themselves into her lungs. They’d burn her, leaving stinging kisses along the exposed skin of anyone who dare stay.

And the doctors—they’d be strapped for supplies, choosing who to save and who to sacrifice. He doesn’t envy them. While he makes those decisions in the midst of war, they have to make them as the ashes settle, too.

But maybe—maybe they moved her to a more rural area, one that hadn’t been carved by the touch of the Reapers. A place that still had remnants of a happy life, a place that didn’t remind you of the scent of burning bodies and the sound of a person’s final breath.

Maybe a place where the grass is still a little green.

The latter sounds too optimistic.

He opens his eyes again and glances towards the door leading out to the hall. How long had he been trying to gather himself? He isn’t sure, but he guesses now would be as good a time as ever to start heading down for that meeting.

_ Spirits,  _ he can’t be the leader.

Maybe they’ll discuss it during the meeting, and he can volunteer Kaidan to take over then.

The way down to the meeting room is, well, long. He itches to be around people again, to take in the distractions of other people’s chatter, but there’s still that nagging in the back of his mind. It keeps telling him to crawl back to Shepard’s cabin, to stay there until they can get an evac and then leave before anyone can notice the 7 foot tall Turian slipping away.

He laughs to himself, quietly shaking his head before the elevator doors open in front of him.

They open to quiet conversation. A majority of the crew stands around the central console—Garrus notices the way Cortez and Tali hang from under the map, speaking softly as they work to get it back up and running. On the right side, Liara is speaking with James and Kaidan. When he steps out of the elevator, Liara’s gaze drifts to him, subtly raising her eyebrows while still trying to keep her attention on the men in front of her.

She doesn’t do it very well.

Moments later, both James and Kaidan turn to make eye contact with Garrus—and neither of them are subtle at hiding their surprise. There’s a moment where he considers walking backwards into the elevator, pressing the button to the cabin, and following through with the plan the nagging in his mind had proposed.

But then Tali looks up, and says his name with a certain excitement in her voice, and his feet stay planted.

“You heard the news about Shepard, didn’t you?” He watches as she ducks out from under the railing, making her way towards him with a new bounce in her step.

“I was with Liara when she made the connection, yeah,” He replies. His gaze flicks to Liara and then she’s moving over towards him and Tali. 

“I’m glad you’re down here,” Liara begins, “We should probably start that meeting soon.”

Garrus nods, and then Liara gathers a few people from the central area to make their way towards the bridge. He notices Javik’s absence, and turns to Tali, tilting his head at her.

“Javik?” He nods. “I went down to check on him a bit ago. He’s holed up in cargo and I-“

“Don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon?” Garrus asks.

“No, not really. He seems…” She pauses for a moment, letting the soft hum of her suit’s tech sit between them. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“I think he thought the end would be much sooner than this,” He says.

Tali hums in reply, not giving herself or Garrus much time to think on that statement. But if he’s being honest, they both know what it means. On the one hand, he thought the end was half a millennium ago, when the Reapers were encroaching on every life form he had ever known. 

On the other, he was awoken to unknown territory, and he was sure that the end would come with the Reapers once more; and if it didn’t, he would rest with his people once it was all over.

Garrus had heard him say it, and then heard Shepard relay the information to him late at night, worry evident in her voice—the concept wasn’t foreign to him, but it also wasn’t any less upsetting.

But then again, he isn’t sure what he would do in Javik’s situation either, or if it would even be any different. Javik’s never been open to anyone on the ship, who knows if he had an entire life that he had built for himself in his past. He must’ve had friends, family, at least someone he cared for.

If he woke up, and found that the ashes of those people—of their memories—weren’t even left behind,  _ spirits,  _ he would be lost. Palaven has seen so much destruction, but it’s not ruin. It burns because of the life it still holds, it burns because it carries fight with it despite the decimation of so many of its people.

But Ilos—Ilos lays in ruin because there’s no one left to fight for it. There are no more screams, whether of anguish, of victory, or of determination. It lays waste to its own. He isn’t even sure if any of it could call out home to Javik anymore, not after all these years.

So he gets it. As much as he hates it, he gets it.

They arrive at the bridge to see Joker sitting in his chair, looking over various consoles and screens and testing systems one by one. Garrus scans the crew—looking past and around the branch that still lays in the middle of the bridge. He tries not to make eye contact with anyone, but he keeps checking them over.

He hasn’t been unaware of the way Liara keeps her weight on her left side—off the side that was scraped during the crash. He didn’t say anything in the cabin, partially from exhaustion, partially from trying not to pry, but she’d been careful around that side whenever she sat or leaned down. Her hand would come up to her torso, delicate and cautious. But, he’s seen her with worse, and he’s just grateful that she seems okay.

Kaidan and James are fine—well, as fine as those two can be. Kaidan’s been a little more careful on his feet ever since he got back on the Normandy, but that’s to be expected after his injuries on Mars. James is, well, James. Even if he was in pain, Garrus doesn’t think he’d be one to show it. But on the outside, he looks fine, maybe a few bruises on his arm, but fine.

Tali’s the one he’s most worried about. She was already injured from Earth when they crashed, but Quarians are tough bastards, he’s learned. She has a limp to mirror his, and he notices the way she cradles her right arm in her left.

He hopes she’s been taking the time to tend to that. If she starts running a fever, he doesn’t think she’ll ever forgive her. He’ll ask her later.

Liara calls out Joker’s name, and he turns in his chair. That’s when Garrus is finally able to assess him.

And  _ spirits,  _ he looks tired. He supposes Joker is somewhat used to dealing with the occasional fracture and bruise, but this kind of exhaustion is uncommon to see under his eyes.

When Garrus first started hanging around humans and Asari, he never understood what they meant when they said they looked tired. With Turians, it was the way they held themselves, the way their posture would slip and their heads would fall to the sides, but with humans and Asari, they could tell just from a single look.

And he never got it. That is, until he started to notice it in Shepard.

There were nights when she would come into the battery, after long days where the chase seemed endless, and she’d sit on one of the crates. She’d have her datapad with her, putting in reports and looking over data for the next mission.

At first, he didn’t really notice it. But then he’d watched the way she leaned her head against the wall, letting her eyes slip shut, and he’d laugh to himself.

“Tired?” He’d ask, a teasing tone resting on his tongue. He’d watch as she’d open her eyes and let her head fall to the side so she could look at him.

“Shut up,” She’d say, setting her datapad to the side and crossing her arms over her chest. She would let her eyes flutter shut again, and he’d go back to work, letting her sit there for as long as she wished.

And then before long, he started to pick up on the way her fatigue would show in more than just her demeanor. Her eyes would look almost heavy, falling shut whenever there was a moment of silence as she sat. He started to notice the way dark circles would form underneath her eyes if she stayed up for too long, or if she was staring at a screen, her eyes would get a little red.

It was around the time he started noticing, that he started keeping her in check. He’d nudge her to bed, whether through words or through touch, whenever he started to notice those little dark circles around her eyes.

And now, as he stands in front of Joker, he sees those same dark circles under his eyes.

Garrus looks up then, trying not to stare, and notices that Liara is looking to him. His mandibles tighten, and he tilts his head at her. He’s probably the least informed here, and the least likely to know just how to  _ start _ this little meeting, but she still looks to him, eyes expecting.

He goes to say something, and then pauses, letting his eyes fall over the group. He glances to EDI’s chair, half expecting her to be sitting there waiting for him, but her body doesn’t even lay there anymore. They probably moved it down to the AI core, leaving her body to wait for repairs that may never fully fix her.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it?

Nothing Garrus says can fully fix this situation—nothing can fix the fact that, if he’s lucky, he’ll be effectively abandoning them in a few short hours, making his way to Earth on a shitty Alliance evac shuttle.

But no speech could fix this situation, not even one of Shepard’s. None of her speeches ever fixed anything. They made things better, they gave the crew hope, but no matter what, they still faced death, destruction, and fear along every step of the way.

There isn’t a full fix to this. There isn’t a full fix to Joker’s fatigue, to the scars that lay on all of their bodies, to the memories that plague each and every one of them.

He can trace the worry along all of their faces, can feel the lost beats of energy. All there is to do is make it better. To try and create hope.

“We’ve all heard the news by now,” He says, finally. The rest of their gazes snap to him then. “Shepard’s alive, and she’s back on Earth. As her crew, her friends—hell, even her family, it’s our duty to try and get back to her.

“It’s not going to be easy to repair the Normandy. I don’t even know if we can do it alone, but the good news is, Liara set up that extranet connection,” He glances to Liara then, and watches as she stands up a bit straighter at his attention, “Think you can set up the external comms now, too?”

“Absolutely. It should only take a few minutes now if I have a bit of help,” She replies. Garrus looks to Tali then, and she nods.

“I’m on it.”

“Then we have a plan,” He says. “Listen I- I know this hasn’t been easy on any of us. We all thought the fight was over, that we’d be given a chance to rest after the Crucible was launched, and we will get that.

“But for now, just for a few hours longer, we have to keep going.”

“And what will you be doing, Garrus?” Kaidan asks. Garrus doesn’t think it’s meant to come out as cold as it does, but it surprises him. He looks to Kaidan, tilts his head at him, and then brings his gaze to the branch that still stands in the middle of them.

“First order of business? Get rid of this damn branch,” He replies. That brings a quiet laugh from Joker, who shakes his head and goes to turn around in his chair.

“Lost the stick that goes up your ass?”

Normally, Garrus would bite back with another snide remark, something to make Joker laugh at himself, but even in Joker’s delivery—he can tell he’s not entirely in it. So Garrus just lets out a sigh of laughter.

“Exactly.”

Kaidan doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with his answer, but Garrus can’t find it in him to care much more. James is already looking back to the center console, seemingly itching to get back to whatever he was working on in there, and Liara’s gaze has drifted to her workspace as well.

So when Garrus moves towards the branch, bringing up his omni-tool in hopes that it’ll be strong enough to cut through the wood, he isn’t surprised to see the rest of the crew move towards their own spaces.

He crouches down, thinking that he might be able to saw off the bottom and then pull out the top without sawing any more. Tali and Liara work quietly, and Joker continues to look over the systems from before. Garrus glances up at him as he works, pulling his omni-blade out and starting to saw at the wood.

The quiet conversation is a welcome piece of ambience after everything that’s happened over the past day. It’s certainly better than his own anxieties, and it almost feels normal. Besides the branch, at least.

Garrus keeps sawing, and then breaks through the branch. He sits back and starts trying to pull the branch out from the top of the Normandy. He’s careful with it, attempting to not disturb any more wires than he has to, but sighs when he can’t get more than minuscule movement. He stands then, hoping to get better leverage from higher up, and glances over at Joker and his console once again.

And that’s when Garrus realizes that the systems Joker’s looking over, they aren’t just the Normandy’s systems, they’re EDI’s. He’s checking for activity, anything that might give the impression that she’s still running somewhere, deep in the ship.

Without much thought, he moves forward, placing his hand on Joker’s shoulder.

“Hey,” He says, voice about as soft as a Turian’s can be. “Do me a favor and try to get some rest.”

Joker doesn’t even glance up at him, but his hands pause over the terminal. They hover, still fidgeting like they want to move, like they want to continue searching, but then Joker’s hands move up, going to smooth out the creases that have formed on his forehead.

“Yeah,” He replies. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll- I’ll try to take a break.”

“ _ Rest, _ ” Garrus repeats.

“Yeah, that too.”

And then Joker gets up, and starts to move his way out of the bridge. He can’t imagine Joker will get much rest, but he can’t keep staring at the systems, repeating the same tests over and over again and begging for different results.

At the least, he’ll get out of that damn chair for a while. Spirits know he needs it.

Garrus turns then, facing back towards the branch. He gets a steady grip on it, and then leans back, careful to put his weight on his right side. He feels it start to budge a bit, watches as it pulls on the metal that it broke though in the first place. When he starts to feel a burning in his arms, he takes a break, shaking out the pain before resetting his hands and trying again.

He does that a few more times, trying not to be too much of a distraction to Tali and Liara all the while, until the branch finally slips through. He tries to be careful with it, distributing the weight so it doesn’t come crashing down on one of Joker’s consoles, and then looks down at it.

_ Finally,  _ he thinks,  _ This bitch. _

He carries it out the ship, and then tosses it into the shrubbery, watching as it lands a few feet away from the Normandy. He leans back against the ship, then, and crosses his arms. He takes a breath, closing his eyes before he looks back up at the sky.

He notices the moons. The lunar cycle here must be insane—the once crescents now rest as half moons. Distantly, he hears a shuffle in the brush, and then watches as a few winged-animals fly out of the bushes.

The door opens then, and he looks over to see Tali peeking out at him.

“Liara got the comms online. You should be there when we make contact.”

He nods, “I’ll be there in a second.” Then Tali disappears behind the doors again, and Garrus glances down to the ledge that he’d looked at when they first landed—the one he imagined Shepard sitting on while she surveyed the area.

_ And soon we’ll get the hell out of here,  _ he thought of her saying.

_ Well,  _ he thinks,  _ maybe you weren’t too far off, Shepard. _

He turns to go back inside, and then pauses.

“I promise I’ll see you soon,” He whispers.

And then the doors hiss behind him.

He heads into the bridge to see Liara sitting at the console, working through a couple screens to keep the connection going.

“You got into Alliance Command?” He asks.

“Yes, but I’m not sure how stable the connection will be. We may only have a few minutes to speak with them.”

“That’s fine, as long as they have long enough to zero in on our location.”

Liara looks back at him and nods, and then returns to her screen to make a couple of changes.

“While you speak, I will attempt to keep the connection up, but it’s best if we act quickly.”

Garrus nods back at her, and then looks down at the console. He takes a breath and looks over to Tali, who nods. Garrus presses the button to connect the call.

“Alliance Command, this is the Normandy, we are requesting immediate assistance.”

The comms crackle between them, and suddenly this feels all too similar to trying to contact Shepard after the activation of the Crucible. He looks to Liara, whose brows furrow as she continues to type, trying to get the connection through.

The static continues, and Garrus goes to repeat himself, but then a voice rings through the system.

“This is Alliance Command, we hear you Normandy. Can you give us information on your location?”

Garrus feels Tali’s hopeful touch on his shoulder as she leans in closer to the systems. He’s doing his best to contain his optimism—the comms could go down any second now.

“We crash landed on a tropical planet, we’ll need you to zero in on our location. Our connection is unstable so it’s best if you hurry,” He replies.

There’s another beat of silence, and then he speaks again.

“We’re locating your signal, try to keep the connection on your end. If we get your location, we’ll send evac ASAP. What’s your status?”

“Minor wounds on the crew, and the Normandy’s systems were down on impact. We’ve been able to get most major systems back up, but the ship’s taken quite a bit of damage.”

“We can send out a repair team with evac then. We’ve almost got your location-“ The comms stutter for a moment, and Garrus looks over to Liara, who’s already got her fingers running across the keys again.

The comms fizzle back to life after a few moments. “-your commander?” The man’s voice is more staticky than it was before, but at least it’s still a connection.

“Sorry, sir, we lost the connection for a moment, can you repeat that?” Garrus asks. He’s trying to hide the way his breath stuttered at Shepard’s rank, but he doesn’t think he’s done it very well, based on the way Tali’s grip on his shoulder tightens for a moment, but the connection’s still unstable, so his focus doesn’t stay on Shepard for long, instead trying to listen to whatever words he can pick up from the between the static.

“Zeroing in… location… hours… Normandy-“

The connection cuts then, not even leaving any static to move through the room, and Garrus hits his fist on the console.

“Dammit,” Liara whispers. She tries to get the connection back online, but after a few moments she sits back and sighs. “Let’s hope that was enough.”

“It should have been,” Tali says, “On the fleet we could zero in on locations in that amount of time, the Alliance should have that kind of tech-“

“Unless it was damaged,” Garrus interrupts. His palms press into the console, and he puts his weight on them, almost enjoying the slight ache in his left shoulder as he shifts to that side. He hangs his head forward and closes his eyes. He hears Tali sigh from behind him.

“Right, unless that.”

“There’s whole teams for tech repair on Earth at the moment. I’m sure if it was damaged they would have been able to get it running again by now,” Liara says. But she turns and looks back at her console, and Garrus glances over to see her brows furrowed together, her hand balled in a fist by her mouth while her eyes look over the systems again. “I’m sure they would,” She whispers.

Garrus takes a breath, and then he pushes off the console, sitting up straight.

“Well,” He begins, “We’re no use waiting around. Liara, why don’t you see if you can get the connection back online? It’s at least worth a shot.”

She nods, and then looks to Tali, who’s already started to move back into her place next to Liara. Garrus scans the bridge, and then his eyes fall on Joker’s chair. His terminal is still up, the systems still on display, and he thinks for a moment,  _ well, couldn’t hurt to look. _

And so he starts to look through the systems, hoping to find a piece of EDI to pull back to life.

Maybe it’s a hopeless endeavor, but it’s something. There’s no harm in trying, and this way he’s on the bridge in case Liara gets the comms back up.

And on top of that, there’s some part of him that just wants things to go right. He wants to be able to confirm that, hey, EDI’s still out there somewhere. And maybe he’s not as familiarized with these systems, but if he looks for optimization, or if he looks at the preservation systems, maybe he can find something.

He’s talked a lot about hope today, but he’s struggling to find his own source of it now. This, though, this could be enough for a moment.

Until he hears those evac shuttles land, until he sees the Alliance soldiers step off, some offering assistance for the Normandy and others offering their place on the journey back home, this will do.

And so he looks.

He’s staring at the systems for what feels like hours, eyes growing tired from the screen, when he sees something.

He swears it’s his eyes playing tricks on him, or an anomaly from Liara’s work next to him, something that can be explained.

But he looks again, reruns the tests in the display for his visor, and comes to the same answer.

The optimization tech for the crew’s quarters is off, just slightly, diverting extra power there that couldn’t be there under these conditions, so he pulls up his omni-tool to contact Chakwas downstairs.

_ The only person in the quarters is Joker,  _ her reply reads.

So he looks back up at the console, and he has to stop himself from laughing.

_ Tough AI,  _ he thinks,  _ maybe she’s still out there. _


	5. ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this chapter is going to seem like it's the last chapter. it is not. i have a bit more a want to work into this fic, but we're getting close to the end :) i hope you all have loved it as much as i have!!

The shuttle rocks beneath him. He’s sitting on the bench, elbows resting on his legs and hands twined together.

It had all seemed so fast. He’d turned to Liara and Tali—the news about EDI on the tip of his tongue—and then Kaidan ran into the room.

“Shuttles,” He’d said, excited gasps moving through him as he tried to catch his breath. “There’s shuttles landing.”

And then there was a clamor of the four of them—each one running to get a glimpse of the Alliance. If they hadn’t known any better, you’d think they’d been stranded here for weeks. Garrus tried to catch his breath as he stepped out of the ship, gaze trained on the horizon that lay ahead of him.

The bottoms of the shuttles brushed against the trees, causing those same winged-animals Garrus saw earlier to flee their perches. The sun laid behind them, casting shadows ahead of them that stretched to his feet. They hovered for a moment before finally landing, flattening the shrubbery beneath them before their engines silenced.

And then they were loading the worst of their injured onto the evacs. They were all Alliance crew, mostly people who’d been near the main console and hadn’t had anywhere to hold onto during the crash.

And then, it was just them—the people he’d come to call family on the Normandy. He turned, looking back at Tali and Liara.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine if I leave?” He’d asked. Tali laughed, quiet and nearly humorless, before replying.

“Were you really doing much  _ on  _ the ship?”

He scoffed at her, shaking his head.

“Hey, I  _ did  _ find out that-“ He’d paused then, stopping for a moment before he began to look around for Joker.

“Find what out?” Liara asked.

“Shit, where’s Joker?”

“I think he’s still down in the crew’s quarters,” Tali replied. Garrus swore again, and then looked to Tali.

“I was going to tell you two before, but then the shuttles came,” He’d paused to glance to Liara, who’d furrowed her eyebrows as she looked over his face. “EDI’s alive. Or at least, I think she is. There was a diversion of power to the quarters while Joker was there, I think-“

“There’s a chance to get her back,” Tali whispered, more to herself than anything.

“We’ll be on it, Garrus,” Liara replied, “Don’t worry about it.”

“And you’re sure-“ He began, but Tali waved him off.

“Garrus,” She replied, “It’s okay to let go of the crew for a bit. Shepard’s out there waiting for you. We’ll catch back up soon, you’re not abandoning us.”

“I know but-“

“Garrus,” Liara said this time, voice stern, “ _ go.” _

And so he’d nodded, looking between her and Tali before he glanced back to look at the shuttles. He had to leave. So he turned, beginning his walk towards the shuttles when he felt Tali’s grip on his arm.

“And hey,” She’d said, “Keelah Se’lai. Make sure she’s okay—for all of us.”

He grabbed her hand in reply, squeezing it for a moment as a goodbye, and then turned back to the shuttles.

Now, as he watches the Normandy and its crew grow smaller with every second, he feels calmer. They’ll all be okay, and then he’ll see them again when they flood into Shepard’s hospital room.

But for now, he has to wait, and he’ll be the best he can for Shepard when he gets there.

The shuttle’s quiet. Beside him are a few members of the Alliance crew, each with concussions and scratches up along them. A few of them have bandages wrapped around some areas of their limbs. There’s no conversation—it makes it so unlike the shuttles he’s used to being on.

Normally, Shepard’s going over the mission, standing over them and speaking to both the ground team and Cortez as they move into the drop-off zone. Whenever Shepard was quiet, it meant she was nervous.

They tried not be so outward in front of the rest of the crew. They knew, obviously—everyone did—but they talked about keeping it professional on the outside.

But sometimes, there would be a break in that. When she was quiet, and he knew she was overthinking the mission, he’d just reach out a hand to her. He’d squeeze her hand, a wordless motion of comfort, and lock eyes with her.

And then they’d go in. No words, no smiles, no nods. They just knew. So when the shuttle doors lifted, there wasn’t a need for anything more—they were so used to each other’s rhythm that Shepard wouldn’t even have to look to know that he was behind her.

So this quiet—it’s weird, and difficult. He can’t reach out to Shepard, but at least he knows he’ll see her soon.

He closes his eyes, takes a breath. That motion’s been pretty common for him lately—something he picked up from some guys on his team back on Omega. Joker had said that he seemed to lose his rigidness sometime back there. While Garrus can’t be sure that it’s the breathing that does it, it can’t hurt.

So he stops, breathes, and closes his eyes. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

He lets time flow past him, listening to the hum of the shuttle, the coughs from the people around him, but doesn’t listen for long. He tries to numb himself to the pain of his shoulder and leg, and just breathes.

It doesn’t seem like it’s been long when he hears something hitting the outside of the shuttle. He opens his eyes and looks around. No one seems alarmed, not even the pilots, so he turns, looking out the small window to the outside.

_ It’s raining. _

Little drops of water roll down the glass, speeding past one another in a race to reach the bottom. He looks past the droplets, and then realizes that they’ve reached Earth. The land no longer burns, but ashes still rise from it, dots of grey tinting the skyline. It seems they’re just outside London—he can see the towering buildings still, but the frequency of tall, looming architecture has dropped.

Below, he can see people walking the streets. There’s lots of people in medical uniforms running about, shielding people from the rain as they lead them to the nearest medical tent. There’s still rubble that lays in the streets, and distantly, he thinks he can see a Reaper that’s fallen over, inactive.

The shuttle lands just outside a hospital, and the Alliance crew steps off, so he does as well. He walks cautiously outside—Earth was never known for having many tourists, but neither was Palaven, he supposes. The rain hits his skin, running down his face and his hands.

When was the last time he felt rain?

The last time he’d been on Palaven, months ago now, after the suicide mission. That week, it had rained. He’d stayed inside most days, talking to his father about the threat of the Reapers, too stressed to take a moment outside to feel the rain as it hit his skin.

But now, the rain falls on him, wetting his armor and falling into his eyes, and as much as he wants to savor it again, he has to go inside.

Being inside the hospital feels like a rush of names and numbers. He hardly remembers the words that leave his mouth as he speaks, is hardly keeping track of the people in front of him.

But he hears the words  _ Commander Shepard _ and her room number, and that’s all he really needs.

He always joked about how much he hates fighting through hospitals, but he hates visiting them just as much. They remind him too much of his mother, losing her memory to a disease that none of them could control. His mother used to scold him when he was younger for calling hospitals a symbol of death. They were a symbol of life just as much as death, she’d say.

He would always agree with her just to make her happy, but the thought always stuck with him. He tried to push it out when he visited her, tried to hope that they were a symbol of recovery and new hope back then, but he was never successful.

Now, he’s trying to push that same symbol of death away,

Shepard’s on the top floor of the hospital, where large windows surround the corridors and the rooms seem a little bigger. When he arrives at her door, he finds himself hesitating. He should just walk through, get it over with, and grab her hand finally.

But he hesitates, because there’s no telling what he’ll see. How much of her was destroyed back there? On the news, they’d said she was in critical condition, how true is that? How much of her has been destroyed?

Is she even awake?

He shakes his head, takes his final breath, and walks forward.

The door hisses open, and then there she lays. There’s a large window ahead of him covering most of the wall, and her head is turned towards it. She’s sitting up, looking outside, but she’s leaned back against the pillows.

She doesn’t turn at the sound, so he steps forward, cautious and quiet. If she’s asleep, he doesn’t want to wake her, but he needs to be closer to her, make sure she’s real and okay—that she’s all there and safe and-

And  _ alive. _ Not just some work of fantasy his mind has created—that she’s  _ there,  _ in all her humanity.

He continues moving towards her, and when he’s just a few steps from her bed, she turns.

And there she is, green eyes tired but bright. She’s got those damn dark circles under her eyes, but they light up.

“Shepard,” Garrus breathes, like her name is a final prayer before death. His name escapes her lips, too, and she goes to sit up before groaning and falling back. He rushes to her side, touch delicate against her torso as she goes to lean back against the bed.

“Don’t push yourself just because I’m here,” He says. She laughs, weak and quiet, but she laughs all the same.

“Oh, don’t give yourself so much credit,” She replies. He’s never heard her voice sound so quiet. She’s been nothing less than commanding ever since he’s known her, the constant center of attention—whether good or bad—and her voice was always a perfect reflection of that.

“You need water,” He says, and he reaches for the cup on the table beside him, handing it to her. He studies her face as she drinks, noticing the new scars that cross her nose and left eyebrow. There’s another scar on her right cheek, and without much thought, he brings his hand up to follow it.

His eyes trace down the rest of her, looking over the left side of her—the side that’s farthest from him—first. There’s bandages running up and down her, and he notices some bruising that crawls up that arm and under her hospital gown, but nothing terrible.

Then he looks to her right side, and he sees her arm.

Metal and wires run up her, twisting and curving the way her arm normally would. He brings his hand down from her face and traces up the metal, feeling it against his fingers. He moves up, noticing the way her gaze follows his hand as it flows up her arm.

He reaches the sleeve of the hospital gown and moves it out of the way, and there the metal begins to intertwine with scarred skin. She moves her left hand before he can reach her shoulder, before he can see where the scars end, and stops him.

“There was an explosion in the Crucible,” She begins, “I don’t remember much of it, maybe a bit of pain? There was so much happening and I just- I blacked out, and then I woke up in rubble, just trying to breath and scream at the same time.”

“Shepard, I-“

“I already know what you’re going to say, and no,” She interrupts, “You shouldn’t have been there. I’m glad you weren’t. I’m lucky that I made it out of there, Garrus.”

He nods, and then looks back down at her arm.

“Can I see the rest of it?” He whispers. She hesitates for a moment, and then nods, moving her hand away from her shoulder so he can move up the rest of the gown’s sleeve.

His fingers trace the raised red skin of the scar, and then he finally meets her shoulder.

And there’s ink there.

It used to be a complete circle, but the scar has cut into part of it, leaving dashes of lightning across the-

Across the star chart, he realizes.

He leans in, following the lines and the stars, his eyes scan over names of planets and moons and everything in between.

A breath shudders out of him.

“This is-“ He begins.

“Palaven’s star chart,” She finishes.

It’s broken, cut into by those jagged pieces of raised flesh, but it’s so clear. His home has found its place on her skin. He whispers her name, glancing between her eyes and the ink that lays in front of him.

“When did you get this?” He asks. She reaches her left hand down then, taking the hand doesn’t rest on her shoulder. She traces her pointer finger up and down his talons, distractedly making little patterns as she speaks.

“Back on the Citadel, that last time we went,” She answers. “I guess I should’ve thought about the placement more. Didn’t really expect to lose an arm, but maybe I should have.”

“No it’s- it’s perfect,” He says. He eyes stutter on it for a moment, and then he looks back up at her, “Why Palaven?”

She laughs, “Oh, you aren’t this dense, Garrus.”

He meets her eyes again, shaking his head at her.

“I’ll need to hear the explanation for this one. From you.” He pauses, “In your voice, please.”

Her head falls in a sigh, hair falling in front of her face. He reaches up to push it behind her ear, then cups her chin for a moment before allowing her hand to once again find his.

“Anderson and I talked a while back about tattoos of Earth’s star chart so that maybe, by some crazy chance, if our bodies were preserved in the way the collector’s were, people would know where we were from.”

“That doesn’t explain Palaven,” Garrus interrupts. She shoots him a half-teasing, half-scolding look.

“I’m getting there,” She says, and then pauses to make sure he’s paying attention, raising her eyebrows at him while she waits. “So, as the war dragged on, I realized that I didn’t really care if anyone knew where I was from.” Her hand raises from his then, her touch delicate as it reaches his face, “I wanted them to know where I belonged.

“And I knew that even if Earth was lost, maybe Palaven would still have a chance. So, when we were on the Citadel, I decided that, should I die, people should know that my heart was with Palaven. And then, maybe, if Palaven survived through all of this and I didn’t, they would know to send me there.

“Even if my face was made unrecognizable, even if the rest of my body was in ruin, they would know that I was meant to go to Palaven and maybe you’d find me. And I didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want you to think that I’d given up, or that I’d come to terms with the possibility of my death. I knew you wouldn’t let me.

“And I didn’t- I didn’t want you waiting for my body to arrive. If I was going to do this, I was going to work like hell to get back to you first.”

Garrus lets out a sigh of humorless laughter, leaning into her touch.

“And spirits, did you work like hell, huh?” He says.

“Well,” She begins, “I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

“Oh, and I was so close to taking it, too,” He replies. She laughs then, dropping her hand from his face to her abdomen, wincing a bit.

“God, don’t make me laugh,” She says.

“It’s payback for making me laugh when my scars were still healing,” He replies. She glares at him, but takes his hand again anyway.

“At least my scars were unavoidable.”

“Now how were mine avoidable?”

“I don’t know, maybe moving a couple inches to the left?”

Now it’s Garrus’ turn to laugh and wince, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder as he leans forward.

“Hey,” She begins, “What happened to you?”

Garrus hums. “Long story, I’ll tell you later. For now, you should rest.” Shepard groans in reply.

“You sound like the doctors,” She says.

“Well, as much as I hate to say it, they just might be right sometimes."

She shakes her head and then leans back on her pillows, grip tight on his hand.

“I’ll rest,” She starts, “But- stay. Please.”

Garrus doesn’t say anything, just nods, and then watches as she rests her head to the side, allowing her eyes to close. Garrus moves the chair further down the bed, and decides to rest his head on top of his arms, right by her legs. One of her hands still rests in his, and he’s careful to make sure it stays that way.

And so, without fighting, without any reason to, really, Garrus allows himself to rest.

He takes a breath, in and then out, and allows himself to just feel safe, real, and  _ alive. _


End file.
